usual lingo."

Diana was silent again.

"Now you can have Will," her mother went on; "and he would be my very
choice for you, Diana."

Diana made no response.

"He is smart; and he is good-lookin'; and he'll have a beautiful farm
and a good deal of money ready laid up to begin with; and he's the sort
to make it more and not make it less. And his mother is a first-rate
woman. It's one of the best families in all Pleasant Valley."

"I would rather not marry either of 'em," said Diana, with a little
half laugh again. "You know, mother, there are a great many nice people
in the world. I can't have all of 'em."

"Who were you with all the forenoon?" Mrs. Starling asked suddenly.

"You went off and left me with the people from Elmfield. I was taking
care of them."

"I saw you come out of the field with them. What a popinjay that
Masters girl is, to be sure! and Mrs.--what's her name?--the other, is
not much better. Soft as oil, and as slippery. How on earth did _they_
come to Bear Hill?"

"I suppose they thought it would be fun," Diana said with constrained
voice.

"Don't let anybody get sweet on you there, Diana Starling; not if you
know what is good for you."

"Where, mother?"

"_There_. At Elmfield. Among the Knowlton folks."

"What's the matter with them?" Diana asked; but not without a touch of
amusement in her voice, which perhaps turned the edge of her mother's
suspicion. She went on, however, energetically.

"Poor and proud!" she said. "Poor and proud. And that's about the
meanest kind of a mixture there is. I don't mind if folks has something
to go on--why, airs come nat'ral to human nature; I can forgive 'em
anyhow, for I'm as proud as they be. But when they _hain't_
anything--and when they pile up their pretensions so high they can't
carry 'em steady--for my part I'd rather keep out o' their way. They're
no pleasure to me; and if they think they're an honour, it's an opinion
I don't share. Gertrude Masters ain't no better than a balloon; full of
gas; she hain't weight enough to keep her on her feet; and Mrs.--what's
her name?--Genevy--she's as smooth as an eel. And Evan is a monkey."

"Mother! what makes you say so?"

"Why don't he shave himself then, like other folks?"

"Why, mother, it is just the fashion in the army to wear a moustache."

"What business has he to be in the army? He ought to be here helping
his grandfather. I have no sort o' patience with him."

"Mother, you know they sen